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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148740">Cute Short Stories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorkInProgress84/pseuds/WorkInProgress84'>WorkInProgress84</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baby, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, PWP without Porn, Valentine's Day Fluff, cuteness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:01:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorkInProgress84/pseuds/WorkInProgress84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An assortment of shorter stories that have very little to no plot at all.<br/>I may add more pairings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The thief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A tornado had ripped through the flat. Nothing else could explain the utter pandemonium Merlin had just entered. A tornado with his boyfriend at its eye.</p><p>"Arthur, what the-"</p><p>"I've lost it! Merlin, I've lost it!"</p><p>Merlin was about to agree that indeed, Arthur seemed to have lost it, when he saw the distress on his face and bit his comment back. "What are you talking about?"</p><p>"My mother's ring! I was so sure it was with the cufflinks in my bedside table, but when I opened it earlier it was gone. Did you move it?" </p><p>
  <em>Oh shit.</em>
</p><p>"I- I-" he stuttered. "Which one is that?"</p><p>Arthur went back to his thorough search. “The one with the ruby on it,” he said as he removed the cushions from their sofa and piled them on top of the coffee table. “Remember, I had it tailored last year when my father gave it to me. God, I can't have lost it, it's the only thing of hers I've got left, I- I can't-" </p><p>"Okay, okay," Merlin unfroze at last, sensing his boyfriend's impending breakdown. "It's got to be somewhere, right? I’ll help you look.”</p><p>“I’ve looked everywhere.” </p><p>Arthur looked every bit the madman with his blonde hair in disarray and his wide, manic eyes that refused to blink. The blue irises flitted from corner to corner like they were expecting the ring to jump out of its hiding place any second, Arthur’s body ready to pounce.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, I’ll look again. We’ll go over the flat with a fine-tooth comb and we’ll find it, alright? I promise,” Merlin said with as much conviction as he could muster.</p><p>It seemed to be good enough for Arthur. His boyfriend deflated and nodded. “Alright. Yes, good, alright, let’s do this.”</p><p>“I’ll start with the bedroom.”</p><p>“Okay. I’m just going to finish up with the sofa and then I’ll come help. I might have missed something earlier, I was a bit frantic.”</p><p>
  <em>You don’t say…</em>
</p><p>“Take your time.” </p><p>Merlin strode towards their bedroom but doubled back, deciding there was something he really needed to do. He sidestepped the stuff that used to be on their coffee table and was now on a pile at its feet, climbed over a book that had fallen from the top, and when he’d finally reached Arthur, he gently cradled his face in his hands to kiss him hello.</p><p>There; that was important, too.</p><p>Arthur relaxed a fraction under Merlin’s touch. That was good enough for now.</p><p>“Thank you,” Arthur breathed against his lips.</p><p>“We’ll find it, don’t worry.”</p><p>He kissed him once again then left. Arthur was back to his hunt before Merlin had reached the bedroom.</p><p>Once he got there, he quickly shuck his bag and jacket onto the bed. Then, just to be on the safe side, he went back and closed the door.</p><p>It took him way too long to find the box. Of course it had dropped at the bottom of his bloody bag, and apparently he was now Mary Poppins because it took him literally shoving his head inside to locate what his fingers couldn’t.</p><p>He was a couple of seconds away from putting Arthur’s family heirloom back in its rightful place when the man himself opened the door.</p><p>“Merlin, do you-”</p><p>The box slipped (jumped) from his hand. It bounced off the open drawer it belonged in when Merlin tried to catch it, knocking it farther away - right between Arthur’s feet.</p><p>Merlin winced - honestly, that was his only mistake: if he hadn’t, his boyfriend might have believed he’d chanced upon the ring by some incredible stroke of luck. Arthur frowned. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Oh, he was using the Steely Voice Of Doom. </p><p>Merlin sighed. “I can explain.”</p><p>“I hope so.” Three words that contained an ice sheet worth of ice.</p><p>Arthur picked up the box and opened it. The lines of his body loosened and his features softened when he laid eyes on the ring. Then he looked back up at Merlin. The box clicked shut. All the warmth in his eyes evaporated. Good thing Merlin knew the core of Arthur, or that stare would have had him running for the hills.</p><p>Merlin approached, mostly unafraid, and stopped right before him.</p><p>“Put it on,” he said quietly.</p><p>Arthur frowned. “Why? What have you done to it?”</p><p>“Please. Put it on, come on.”</p><p>After an endless battle of stares, Arthur folded; he clicked his tongue and heaved an aggravated sigh - the man had zero patience. He opened the box again. Reverently, he lifted the ring from its velvet case and slipped it on. A perfect fit.</p><p>“There. Now what?”</p><p>“What finger do you wear it on?” Merlin asked with what he hoped was a meaningful raise of his eyebrows.</p><p>“Are you blind or just daft?” Arthur waived his hand in front of Merlin’s face. “You learn this in kindergarten, Merlin. This one is the ring finger.”</p><p>What a condescending prick. Merlin blinked at him a couple of times but Arthur only gazed at him quizzically. He could literally see his boyfriend's level of annoyance rise the longer Merlin delayed his explanation.</p><p>"Okay," he sighed. "Take it off."</p><p>"I am that close to losing my cool. What did you do with the bloody ring?" Arthur bit out, scrutinizing the jewel once he'd taken it off, probably to see if Merlin had damaged it in any way.</p><p>As if. Merlin liked his head where it was, thank you very much.</p><p>He carefully plucked the ring from Arthur's fingers, who only glared a little, and inspected it, too: the ruby shone a beautiful Pendragon red even under the artificial light of the bedroom. It truly was a stunning piece of jewelry. Not Merlin's style, and certainly not Arthur’s either, but it would have to do.</p><p>He lowered himself to one knee.</p><p>"What are you doing?" Arthur said in a rush.</p><p>"Really? You're still not clear on what's going on?" Merlin chuckled. "I took the ring that goes on <em>that</em> finger to know what size I'd need to make your own engagement ring."</p><p>When Arthur just gaped, Merlin reached for his hand and slowly stroked the knuckles</p><p>“Arthur Pendragon, you hot-headed idiot, will you marry me? I'll exchange rings when the one I chose for you arrives, of course... That is, if you say yes?" he finished with a raised eyebrow. "Did I break your brain?"</p><p>That snapped Arthur out of whatever shock he was in. "Of course not!"</p><p>"Of course I didn't break your brain or of course you won't marry me?"</p><p>"You couldn't break my brain if you tried," Arthur scoffed.</p><p>"So you will marry me?" Merlin fished. "You're allowed to say no but please, do it soon: this position isn't comfortable."</p><p>"I'm not going to say no!" Arthur exclaimed, almost outraged.</p><p>"Well then, say yes already!"</p><p>"Fine! Yes, <em>Merlin</em>, I <em>will</em> marry you."</p><p>Merlin's face split with happiness as he finally slipped the ring on his boyf- his fiancé's finger. It definitely could have gone worse. Arthur swept him up in a swoon-worthy kiss that Merlin was only too glad to return.</p><p>“I’m going to marry you,” Arthur said between kisses, “then I’ll divorce you for stealing my things,” he pecked at Merlin’s laughing mouth, “and then I’ll marry you again.”</p><p>“Alright,” Merlin agreed readily. “But you’re the one doing the proposing next time.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Gibberish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Merlin's single on Valentine's Day and Arthur baffingly insists on spending his evening with him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bell above the door chimes as Merlin sluggishly enters the Avalon Café, bleary-eyed and bone-tired. Freya looks up and spares a small smile for him as she finishes serving a customer, efficient as ever. Merlin gets in line behind him and uses the short waiting time to survey the place: it’s less busy than usual, but the café's opening hours don't run that late. Still, he spots a few familiar faces, including-</p><p>He does a double take. </p><p>He's only ninety-eight percent sure because he can't see their face, shadowed as it is by the staircase that runs up to the café's tiny office, but he's almost positive the guy in the light blue shirt sitting in the cosy little nook is Arthur. His stomach does the usual floppy thing it does whenever his friend's in the vicinity. </p><p>The key word here? <em>Friend</em>.</p><p>“Arthur?" It is indeed Arthur's blonde head that pops out of the booth, and it might be depressing that he was right but it’s also second nature by now: what can he say, Merlin really likes the definition of Arthur’s shoulders in that shirt. A small smile replaces the inquisitive frown on Arthur's face when he recognises Merlin, and Merlin’s heart stays right where it is, thanks for asking. </p><p>“Ah. Merlin. About time.” </p><p>“He’s been here an hour,” Freya, their waitress today, whispers in confidence around the customer she's serving.</p><p>Merlin raises a disbelieving eyebrow but she only nods and shrugs. </p><p>"What are you doing here?”</p><p>True, Avalon is one of their regular haunts and serves the finest eggs benedict for their Sunday brunch, but today’s not Sunday. And tonight isn't a night for sitting alone in a café. <em>He</em> might be heading for exactly that kind of evening, but not Arthur Pendragon, lover boy extraordinaire, no. He is certain Arthur has plans and none of them involve tea, pastries and an early bedtime.</p><p>The fairy lights stapled to the staircase above Arthur (Merlin calls them “hippy chic”, Arthur prefers “hipster overkill”) create a blonde halo around his head and soften the edges of his smile. He looks angelic and princely and all those other mushy adjectives Merlin will never admit to thinking; it's enough he has to endure the mad fluttering in his stomach when he notices the little shadows Arthur's eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. He's not a <em>complete</em> girl.</p><p>“You look like you’re going to drop dead any minute now,” the object of Merlin’s affections answers. Angelic, princely and a right arse, that’s Arthur alright.</p><p>“I might if I don’t drink an entire pot of tea within the next thirty minutes," he says, stepping up to the newly vacated counter and addressing Freya as much as Arthur.</p><p>Arthur's expression slips into a sympathetic grimace. "Long shift?"</p><p>"Just... intense and so <em>bloody</em> long. I'll have a pot of Earl Grey, Freya, please."</p><p>“Can you please add two pieces of the carrot cake?” Arthur signals with a raised hand. “On me. I think Merlin here could use it.”</p><p>“What, you don’t have to-” But Freya's already assembling a tray, her back to him. “Thanks. Both of you.”</p><p>“You can go sit down, I’ll bring everything over,” Freya smiles over her shoulder. For that nugget of kindness alone, Merlin sneaks a note into the tip jar before he joins Arthur in what he’s come to think of as their booth. </p><p>He is sore and aching from too many hours spent on his feet and running around the A&amp;E so when he sinks into the booth, coat still on, Merlin’s body instantly melts into the comfortable leather. He feels like nothing but a sack of bones right now, drained, and he drops his head into his arms. </p><p>“You off tomorrow, then?” Arthur asks.</p><p>“Yes,” he all but moans. “I plan on sleeping in until noon and then make myself a buffet worth of breakfast food I will eat in front of the television -no, better yet, I’ll try and see if I can’t eat lying down on the sofa.”</p><p>“Is someone going to be feeding you grapes as well, Roman style?” Arthur asks wryly, a touch of reprobation in his voice. He does enjoy reminding Merlin that he’s a bit of a slob. </p><p>Merlin looks up from the cradle of his arms and makes a face at him, purposefully ignoring the dazzling smile directed his way. Arthur's so pretty it almost makes up for how unwittingly cruel he’s being, reminding Merlin of his celibacy. It’s not that he doesn’t have options, although there isn't an unending line of pining suitors waiting outside his front door either; it's just- none of the options are Arthur so he's not that interested.</p><p>“Not unless you’re volunteering for the job," he grumbles, and the fact it’ll never happen only makes him want to curl into a ball and cry, so he’s fine. “I’ll have to feed myself.”</p><p>“I take it you don't have any fun plans tonight, then?”</p><p>“My idea of fun after a shift is a long soak in a scorching hot bubble bath; I'm willing to bet it's not what you were getting at.” Merlin is not going to explain the tea slash pastries slash early bedtime to Arthur. “How about you? I thought you were going out,” he adds, remembering that Arthur dodged the question earlier. </p><p>Freya's appearance cuts his interrogation short. “Here you go, enjoy." </p><p>Merlin thanks her and uses the time it takes her to lay their victuals on table to take his coat off. Then he turns back to Arthur and his bloody haloed hair. “Last I heard, Morgana was nagging you to stop stringing along the poor souls who were panting after you.”</p><p>“And I did as she asked,” Arthur replies, "because I already had plans."</p><p>“What do you m-" Merlin has a bit of a lightbulb moment. "Oh! You're having your date here? For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell me to sod off-” </p><p>How embarrassing. Merlin stands up to hurriedly gather his things, stacking up his plate, cup and teapot in his arms. He looks around to make sure he’s got everything with him to hightail it out of here as fast as possible. Does he want his friend to be happy? Yes. Does it mean he’s interested in meeting the person Arthur’s chosen to take on a date on Valentine’s Day of all days? Absolutely not.</p><p>Before he can give himself second degree burns with the teapot, though, Arthur snatches everything back from Merlin’s arms and puts it back down on the table. This is confusing. Then Arthur lays both hands on his shoulders and presses down until Merlin's in his seat again. “Drink your tea, Merlin." The tone brooks no argument.</p><p>"I don’t want to impose, is all: imagine showing up to your first date with a mate, what a dreadful first impression." </p><p>He snorts out a laugh to cover up how stupidly upset he is over Arthur's decision to have his Valentine's date here, in <em>their</em> café. He supposes he’ll have to dash when the person shows up, but the very thought of having to meet them leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.</p><p>“You know all about dreadful first impressions, don’t you?” Arthur snickers, prompting Merlin out of his jealous, melancholy thoughts.</p><p>“Are we talking about how we met again?”</p><p>“You’re damned right, we are.”</p><p>“How long are you going to hold this over my head?” he throws his hands up, bumping one of them on the wall next to him, and he hisses in pain. Arthur only rolls his eyes at his clumsiness. “You appeared out of nowhere! You startled the very life out of me! And may I remind you, I didn’t exactly get out of it unscathed: I was soaked, too, and out of a pint of the finest beer, so you can stop crying about it like a baby. It’s been four years!”</p><p>“I was wearing my good shirt," Arthur crosses his arms with a pout that should be outlawed: his lower lip was made to be nibbled on like the tastiest snack, and showing it off like this is simply obscene, in Merlin's opinion.</p><p>“Your good shirt? Because you only have the one? Please, I’ve seen your wardrobe, you have more than one good shirt.”</p><p>“That one was special."</p><p>Oh, it was special, alright. As far as Merlin’s concerned, though, it had looked even better once it was clinging to Arthur and showcasing his phenomenal upper body. Arthur had made a spectacular first impression - that he’d ruined the second he’d opened his mouth to lay into Merlin for spilling his drink on him, but it wasn’t like Merlin hadn’t given as good as he’d got. </p><p>All things considered, it was a pretty humble beginning but, by the end of the evening, long after it had turned into night, Merlin could already tell he was in trouble: Arthur wasn't only flat-out gorgeous, he was also charming and funny and a fair bit of a dick. In a word, totally Merlin's type. </p><p>On the other hand, he clearly hadn't been Arthur's: the moment some pretty young thing had caught his eye, he'd disappeared. The move was so cavalier, Arthur's sudden departure had left Merlin blinking owlishly after him, his pride and heart trampled.</p><p>The next time they'd bumped into each other at the same club, Arthur had greeted him like he hadn't rudely ghosted him. He'd also asked for Merlin's number, to keep in touch. And so they did.</p><p>Time has proved Merlin right: Arthur is a witty, charming dick; he is so much more, it's unfair. Unfortunately, his one flaw seems to be that he's not attracted to big-eared disasters such as himself. You can't win them all, but this one's a spectacular loss.</p><p>The argument over their first encounter goes on, rehashed and familiar in its rhythm, and once his pot of tea is empty, Merlin's tiredness has morphed into a sort of pleasant, fuzzy languor he feels down to his bones. He could fall asleep here while he's semi-arguing with Arthur about everything under the sun, making Arthur smile and laugh in giggly bursts whenever his tongue trips over a word. It sends happy little sparks through his whole body.</p><p>Sure, reality smacks him upside the head after each zap of happiness, just to remind him how pointless it is: Arthur Pendagron does not fancy him, and so Merlin's pining is hopeless. It’s not like he can turn it off, though. How could he, when Arthur keeps on shooting him fond little smiles every time he trips on air or insults him in very creative ways? </p><p>All too soon, though, Freya's voice rings out. "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that we'll be closing down in thirty minutes."</p><p>Merlin cranes his neck to peek at the clock above the café's huge coffee machine. "Oh bollocks, it's half past eight already! Don't you have plans?" he reminds Arthur. Merlin's a bit of a masochist, really. Is it possible for decorative paper hearts to mock people, because Merlin definitely feels judged as they sway with the breeze that comes in as the first patrons start leaving.</p><p>Arthur looks right at him as he says, “I think I’m right where I need to be.”</p><p>Merlin frowns even as his heart seizes in his chest: honestly, he’s a bit offended on behalf of Arthur's date. He has an inkling of how elated he'd be if Arthur asked him out, and of how crushed he'd be if he were to be treated in such a callous manner. He’s a little bit flattered, too, but that’s neither here nor there.</p><p>"Are you ditching your date to eat carrot cake with your best mate?”</p><p>“Not... exactly?” Arthur replies haltingly, his lips in a pinched line. “Let’s just say, you’ve got pretty much the right words, but in the wrong order.”</p><p>"Wh- And you say <em>I'm</em> annoying because I'm never straightforward?"</p><p>Arthur glares. “I wondered who I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with, and it didn’t actually take very long at all to decide that this person… was… you.” Okay, Merlin might be more tired than he thought, because nothing is computing besides the fact that Arthur’s squirming, and Arthur Pendagron doesn’t squirm. His confusion must show on his face: Arthur leans in over the table like he's at a debate and intends to win it. “What I’m saying is, I’m not ditching my date to eat carrot cake with my best mate; I’m eating carrot cake with my best mate,” he takes a deep breath in, “with whom I am hopefully on a date…”</p><p>The convoluted sentence stumps Merlin, he’s ashamed to say, but he’s slept perhaps three hours in the past day and trying to parse a meaning from the grammatical nightmare Arthur just inflicted on him feels like climbing Mount Everest in shorts and flip-flops. “You want me to sit in on your date?” This is what Merlin's brain provides as the likeliest scenario.</p><p>Arthur closes his eyes, an agonised mask twisting his beautiful face. “No, you idiot, I want you to <em>be</em> my date. I want to be on a date with <em>you</em>. Right now. For Valentine’s Day. I told Morgana I chose you to be my date tonight.”</p><p>“As your mate, so you don’t have to go on a real date?” </p><p>“What the hell, Merlin, <em>no</em>- Oh my God, how are you so thick?"</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>"It’s been pointed out to me that I like you rather a lot more than one likes even his best friend," he goes on like Merlin hasn't spoken. Merlin’s brain screeches to a halt. His head is warning him that he can’t possibly have understood that right, but his heart doesn’t give a crap: it’s racing in his chest, waking him up in a very efficient manner.</p><p>"And it’s been pointed out that you might like me too, so I took a chance. Tonight. Which… may have been a mistake, I realise, because you don't look as taken with the idea as I'd hoped you would."</p><p>"No!" Merlin cries when he sees the crestfallen look on Arthur's face. </p><p>"No?"</p><p>"No, I mean yes. Yes. Yes, I am taken."</p><p>"You're taken?" Arthur echoes with an unhappy frown.</p><p>"No, not like that! I mean with the idea! Wait, who told you all those things? You're not taking the piss, are you? It's Valentine's Day, you wouldn't do that, you're not that much of an arse, right? Because don't think I won't punch you in the face if this is a joke-"</p><p>Merlin only stops talking when Arthur snatches his hand up and weaves their fingers together, effectively stealing his words.</p><p>“It’s not a joke.”</p><p>Merlin looks down at their joined hands, his mind blank. It’s an alien sensation, Arthur’s skin on his, so warm and soft, his grip solid and sure. They’ve shaken hands before, engaged in some pretty intense thumb wars; it’s never felt like this. Right now, his heart feels two sizes too big for his ribcage, the problem expanding with every disbelieving blink of Merlin's eyes.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“‘Oh’, he says,” Arthur mutters, disgruntled but fond. “You’re unbelievable.”</p><p>“Give me a break, this came out of nowhere and I’m fresh off a 24-hour shift: I’m sleep-deprived and barely coherent. You could have timed this better!”</p><p>“I planned on telling you I love you on Valentine’s Day, there’s literally no better timing.”</p><p>Merlin’s turning into a puddle of gooey feelings, and it’s all Arthur’s fault. “You love me?” he says quietly. All breath seems to have left his body.</p><p>“Yes, you idiot.”</p><p>It's so unexpected that Merlin forgets to blush and only has enough brain cells left to throw himself across the tabletop at Arthur. He muffles his shout of surprise with his mouth. Turning the tables on him is only fair; that'll teach him.</p><p>Merlin furiously pecks at his lips again and again, because he can't punch the guy who just told him he loves him, no matter how much he deserves it. He grabs the sides of Arthur's face, and Arthur finally catches on and curls his fists in Merlin's sweater with no gentleness whatsoever.</p><p>Are they kiss-fighting? Possibly. Is it going to be a recurring theme with them? Most likely. Will Merlin be overjoyed if things go on this way? The word doesn't do the feeling that's overcome him justice.</p><p>"Ahem."</p><p>Arthur abruptly lets Merlin go, and he's so surprised he falls back into his seat, only to realise they've gathered quite the audience, including Freya. She's not looking at them, her eyes darting between the various items on the table that Merlin upturned in his fit of passion, her face crimson to the roots of her hair, but her arms are crossed over her chest and the pinched line of her mouth shows she's unimpressed with their outrageous display.</p><p>"Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy for you guys, but we’re not that kind of establishment so you might want to take this elsewhere? We're closing in fifteen minutes anyway."</p><p>They both mutter breathless apologies, thoroughly chastised. Merlin regrets nothing, though, as Freya would know if she bothered to look for the blinding smile on his face. As it is, their hostess only huffs and swiftly turns her heels, leaving her customers to gingerly right everything Merlin pushed askew.</p><p>After a few seconds of silence, he clears his throat. "Okay, I have an important question." He continues at the raise of Arthur's eyebrows. "Do you put out on the first date?"</p><p>Arthur bursts into laughter, the kind Merlin loves best, when he throws his head back and shakes with it. It's brilliant. "For you, Merlin, I'm willing to compromise my very strict moral code, yes."</p><p>Merlin can feel the smile on his own face, threatening to split his face in two. He finds its perfect reflection on Arthur's, and he has to take a deep breath in otherwise he'll suffocate with joy. It's not a bad way to go but he'd rather enjoy this new development before death by happiness takes him.</p><p>The long exhale that follows, though, reminds him of exactly how wrung out he is, and he sags under the fatigue's weight.</p><p>"Or it can wait," Arthur says indulgently. "What do you say we take a cab home, we get a good night's sleep and tomorrow morning I try my hand at that breakfast buffet you had in mind?"</p><p>That sounds heavenly, actually, Merlin can scarcely believe it. "Will you be feeding me grapes, Roman style?" he grins laughingly, because he's not quite sure what to do with this very sweet Arthur just yet. His mind's been squealing for that past ten minutes, and he's got a feeling it's only the start.</p><p>"If you want me to, yes. And we can talk about that bubble bath as well."</p><p>Yep, only the start.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Baby Whisperer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Arthur's not very comfortable with his small niece, but do you know who is? That's right, wonderboy Merlin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What can I do for you?” Merlin says the instant he picks up Arthur’s call.</p><p>Relief, however short-lived, floods Arthur’s whole body. Merlin’s voice has never sounded so good.</p><p>“Merlin? Merlin, thank God: I need your help. How soon can you be here?” Arthur pleads into his phone, way past being dignified.</p><p>“Here, where? What’s wrong? What's that noise? Can you move away from the crying baby, I can barely hear you.”</p><p>“Actually, no, I can’t,” he says with trepidation, glancing at the wailing infant on his sofa. “Morgana left Leïla with me because she had somewhere to be, and she was asleep so it was fine but now she’s awake and she’s been screaming bloody murder for twenty minutes!”</p><p>Merlin sighs. “I suppose you’ve checked her diaper?”</p><p>“Of course I have!” Arthur snaps.</p><p>“Oi! No need to get snippy, I’m trying to help, here!”</p><p>Arthur takes a deep breath in then releases it, trying so very hard to tune out the hellish sounds coming out of his niece’s mouth. “Sorry. She’s clean and Morgana fed her just before she got here.”</p><p>Merlin hums thoughtfully. “Alright. Not sure I’ll be of any help but I’ll be there in ten minutes.”</p><p>He hangs up before Arthur can tell him to hurry up or he is liable to defenestrate himself. He tiptoes over to his sofa and looks down at his niece, wincing: clad in white pyjamas adorned with blue stars, the way she flaps her little limbs about makes it look like she’s raining a meteorite shower on him. Good thing she’s too small to roll over yet. Her face is almost as red as Arthur's sofa.</p><p>Is this what being a new parent feels like? It’s awful. What if your kid doesn’t like you? Leïla doesn’t seem to like Arthur very much. No, Leïla likes Merlin, the little traitor, even though he isn’t at all related to her. Which is why, in his hour of need, he’s turned to the one person who will help him, no questions asked. That’s Merlin in a nutshell. Merlin with his fierce eyes and his ready smile, which Arthur absolutely doesn’t think about a bit too often.</p><p>“What took you so long?” he asks the second he answers his front door.</p><p>Merlin raises an eyebrow then steals into the flat as swiftly as he always does. “Maybe don’t be a prat to the nice friend who came to help?”</p><p>“I can’t stand the noise anymore, I am at the end of my rope, excuse me for being a little short-tempered right now.”</p><p>“You say that like you’re ever anything else,” Arthur is pretty sure he hears Merlin mutter. It’s hard to tell above the wrenching cries. “You do look a bit manic.”</p><p>Arthur runs a hand down his face. Harried as he feels, he has no doubt he looks the part. “Thanks, Merlin. Perhaps you were right after all and you’re not going to be helpful at all.”</p><p>“Told you,” he grins over his shoulder as he chucks his coat and shoes like he owns the place. It's a testament to the level of Arthur's desperation that he doesn't protest the sloppiness. “Anyway, why didn’t you call her mother?”</p><p>Arthur swats the idea away with a wave of his hand. “Morgana said she was busy and only to call her in case of emergency. I will not be the guy who can’t handle a baby.”</p><p>“Except you are, apparently.” Merlin grins again. He approaches the sofa with unwarranted delight. “Hey, Beetroot, what’s going on? Tell Uncle Merlin.”</p><p>“Stop calling her that!”</p><p>“Yeah?” Merlin snorts. He picks up Leïla’s writhing body with the grace and confidence of a seasoned parent. Once she’s cradled against his chest, he gives her gentle pats on the back. “She’s not objecting.”</p><p>“Objecting, as you say, is what she’s been doing for the past half hour.”</p><p>“Are you objecting Uncle Arthur’s grumpiness, Beetroot?” Merlin cooes at the infant. “Are you very offended by how grouchy he always is? I know, I know, he’s not the most pleasant man, what a meanie.”</p><p>Leïla’s answer is a blood-curling wail. Merlin attempts to shush it with a kiss to her brow. It doesn’t work.</p><p>“I am not a meanie! I’ve been nothing but nice to this baby and- and look!” Arthur gestures wildly, helplessly, at the wailing baby.</p><p>It’s a bit sadistic, but he takes pleasure in how loud Leïla keeps on being. Right by Merlin’s ear, too. That must be excruciating.</p><p>"It's fine, she just needs to settle down," Merlin says, calm and low, like he's talking down a skittish horse. "You're alright, baby, your belly's full, your diaper's dry, you're not sick-" he raises an inquisitive eyebrow at Arthur, who shakes his head, "and Mum will be back soon. You're alright."</p><p>He paces around the living room as he talks, wandering between the sofa and the coffee table, along the bookshelves, into the kitchen where he does a slow U-turn back to his starting point. Arthur's stuck against his own front door and hardly dares to breathe as he watches Merlin work his magic, the way he gently bounces Leïla and hums sweet nothings into her ear, his wide hand cradling the baby's head. Miraculously, subtly, the sheer volume seems to decrease. It takes Arthur five minutes to realise he can hear himself think again.</p><p>Leïla's not asleep by a long shot: her blue eyes are wide open like she's trying to take everything in at once. Her face looks more like an overripe tomato than like these cute baby pictures that seem to be all over the internet, but her noises sound less angry, like she might settle down sometime before she gets into kindergarten, and Arthur's so, so grateful for that. He's so relieved he could cry; he refrains, just in case it would set Leïla off again. </p><p>Merlin's mischievous eyes find his but he doesn't break stride, keeps on walking as he presses a grin into Leïla's temple, the lucky girl. </p><p>"Is Uncle Arthur really bummed that he can't do this, um? Does Uncle Arthur wish he knew how to talk to babies?" he simpers. Leïla gurgles a response Merlin coos at.</p><p>"Hilarious, as always," Arthur deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p>Merlin chuckles quietly. His long legs carry him on another sedate round across the flat until he changes course and comes to a stop in front of Arthur, Leïla's tiny body the only thing separating them.</p><p>"Let's try Uncle Arthur's arms, okay?" </p><p>Arthur starts shaking his head before Merlin's even done talking. He reflexively tries taking a step back but his foot hits the door; he's so afraid Leïla will start wailing again that his breath catches in his throat and he freezes, unable to flee. Merlin remains unfazed, though, and keeps going like he's not about to unleash his niece's wrath on them both.</p><p>"You'll feel very safe with him, I promise. Uncle Arthur's strong enough to hold you; he does push-ups, you know?" Merlin shifts his hold on Leïla, making the tricky sleight of hand look insolently easy, and suddenly he's pressing her against his chest until Arthur's got no choice but to wrap clumsy hands around the bundle of warmth. "I'm right here, you're doing just fine."</p><p>Arthur's not sure if Merlin is talking to him or the baby. All he knows is how close Merlin is standing; it muddles his brain, which is a problem because he really should be focusing on the baby in his arms instead of on the sweep of Merlin's eyelashes as he adjusts Arthur's grip, lays his hands over his to show him how to better hold Leïla. She wriggles and grumbles a little; Arthur tightens his hold. Leïla's grumbles increase immediately.</p><p>"Merlin-" Arthur gasps.</p><p>"Relax, you're both doing really good," he says, and Arthur so resents that paternalistic tone and how much better it makes him feel. "Bounce her gently like I did, she likes that."</p><p>Arthur does, mechanically, trying his best to mimic Merlin's sure movements and make them as soothing, as mesmerising. There's a cold drop of sweat rolling down his spine and he's barely breathing; his only anchor is Merlin's steady gaze, the way he's smiling at him like he doesn't doubt for a second that Arthur can do this, can tame this small yet powerful beast.</p><p>Arthur's good at a lot of things; expressing his feelings isn't one of them. He can't even tell Merlin, who's the woodland creature to kill all woodland creatures and probably wouldn't laugh in his face, that he's been in love with him forever. Showing affection to someone whose reactions are so much harder to read seems preposterous. He'll buy Leïla whatever her heart's set on as soon as she's old enough to even point a finger, and that's how she'll know he loves her to pieces. Until then, he'll have to leave the hugs and cuddles to people who are proficient at reading her cues and unlikely to drop her.</p><p>"I'm not good with children," he breathes tightly.</p><p>"What are you talking about, you're doing great," Merlin encourages him. He's so close they're breathing the same air and Arthur can see every last freckle on the bridge of his nose. Merlin looks down at the baby and chuckles again. "Look for yourself."</p><p>So Arthur does, and he sees: Leïla's still awake, still fidgeting and babbling incoherently, spit bubbles trickling from her mouth, but she doesn't seem indisposed or angry anymore, curled up against him. He's so amazed that he forgets to be disgusted as some of the drool seeps through his shirt: he's holding his niece and she's letting him. It's terrifying and prodigious.</p><p>When he looks up, beaming, Merlin's right here, smiling at him softly. There's pride there, and unguarded affection. His heart does a little somersault in his chest but, this time, the giddiness has got nothing to do with Leïla. The gentleness of Merlin's expression, though, that's just the stuff to set off butterflies in his belly, as soppy as it sounds, but it doesn't matter because Merlin looks a bit soppy himself.</p><p>Then, so fast it only lasts the shortest fraction of a second, his eyes dart to Arthur's upturned mouth. Arthur's whole body fizzes. Then something unhappy flashes in Merlin's gaze that digs a little ridge between his eyebrows, lightning quick, and he looks away.</p><p>Arthur doesn't want that latter part; he only wants the former.</p><p>"Merlin." It's an overture, a plea.</p><p>Merlin's eyes connect with his again, uncertain. Arthur won't have any of that, so he dips forward the slightest bit, hoping it makes the invitation clearer. His heart bangs against his chest, so hard he half-expects he'll frighten Leïla with how loud it's being. She stays as still as can be expected, though, and allows Arthur to catch it when Merlin tips forward, too.</p><p>There's an explosion behind his ribcage then, and he's not sure he can take much more of the undiluted happiness Merlin is dealing him today, but he's willing to chance it. </p><p>Merlin closes the distance slowly. It's a mere brush of lips, barely a kiss at all, so Arthur ups the pressure, captures Merlin's lower lip between his and turns it into something languorous. Merlin catches on quick, cupping his face to tenderly run a thumb along Arthur's cheek. Arthur's not even ashamed to say he shivers all over.</p><p>Then he gets a tiny fist to the jaw and draws back. Merlin's eyes are gratifyingly glazed over as he takes a small step back, his lips kiss-swollen. Arthur wants to do this again; Leïla punches him again.</p><p>"Cock-blocked by a baby," Arthur mutters as he glares at Leïla a little. Only a little, though, because next she grabs a fistful of his shirt like she doesn't plan on ever letting go, and Arthur's heart explodes with love all over again.</p><p>"We weren't quite there yet," Merlin amends, but he's looking at him and his niece as if they're the most endearing sight in the world, so he forgives him. "I've been waiting for this for a good long while, so now I intend on taking it slow and enjoying every moment."</p><p>Arthur heaves a long-suffering sigh that Merlin obviously knows is all for show, because he only grins at him and gives him a quick peck on the lips. In fact, Arthur's pretty pleased by this development; he intends on enjoying the hell out of this newfound happiness, too. He starts bouncing Leïla again and takes up pacing the way Merlin was. He is overjoyed when she lets him and only gurgles happily.</p><p>When she comes back, Morgana finds the three of them cuddled-up, Merlin's arm on the back of the sofa as they watch Leïla sleep on Arthur's chest, his hand slowly running up and down her little back. It's awfully domestic and Arthur wouldn't have it any other way; he doesn't even rise to the bait when Morgana teases him for it. Merlin only smiles serenely.</p>
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